Authors: Barbara Bretton
"This is the last thing I expected."
She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Last night this was the last thing I wanted."
He cupped her breasts in his huge hands, gently teasing her nipples with the flat of his thumbs. She felt his touch from her breasts to her belly to the place between her thighs where her fever still raged.
"We should be exhausted," she said.
"I've never felt better."
"Me neither."
"We have two hours until the lock opens."
"I know," said Caroline with a seductive smile. "I wonder how we'll pass the time."
"I have a few ideas," said Charlie.
"You must tell me about them," said Caroline as she moved into his arms and lifted her mouth for his kiss.
#
Nine o'clock came all too soon and with it came an end to magic.
"Oh my God!" said Caroline, scurrying to gather up her clothing. "The store will open any minute. If Rhonda and Denise so much as suspect I'll--" She couldn't even finish the sentence. The thought was too terrible to contemplate. Wrapped in a sable and clutching her shorts and t-shirt, she wheeled around to face Charlie. "Please," she said, "promise me you won't tell a soul."
Charlie's expression was impassive. "Don't worry," he said in a laconic tone. "I won't embarrass you."
"It's not that I'd be embarrassed."
Well, not exactly.
She fumbled about for the right words. "I mean, it's just that I try to keep my private life and my professional life separate."
He laughed out loud. "You can do better than that, Bradley. I've heard all about your fancy parties."
"You know what I'm talking about," she snapped, horrified to discover that she was on the verge of tears. "We made a promise last night and I trust you'll keep it."
He crossed his arms over his muscular chest and the mischievous light in his eyes went out. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not exactly proud of what happened last night either."
His words found their mark inside her heart and she swallowed hard. "Well, at least we're in agreement."
"Yeah," said Charlie as she headed toward the bathroom. "We're in agreement."
Last night was last night. It was over. Everything about Caroline told him so. The way her arms were wrapped about her mid-section. The tilt of her chin. The fact that she wouldn't meet his eyes. He'd been relegated back to the blue-collar world, locked out of her world as surely as they'd been locked in together the night before.
She wanted him out of there and she wanted him out of there as fast as humanly possible.
8:58.
8:59.
9:00 A.M.
It was over.
The lock clicked open and Caroline swung the door wide.
"I'd better shove off." He headed for the front of the store. "There'll be hell to pay at the bar."
She followed him toward the outer door. "You--you won't tell anyone about what happened, will you?" She hated herself for sounding so plaintive but it couldn't be helped.
"I already told you I won't," he said, not turning to look at her. He didn't want to see the look of relief on her beautiful face that her interlude with the working classes would remain their secret. "As far as I'm concerned, last night never happened."
"Good," said Caroline, opening the door for him.
"Good," said Charlie, heading out to his car.
"We'll never talk about it again," said Caroline.
"Damn straight," said Charlie.
"Last night was nothing special," said Caroline.
"See you around," said Charlie, climbing into his car.
"Yes," said Caroline, stepping back into her shop. "See you around."
The whole affair was over and done with and neither one of them would utter a word about it ever again. Caroline would refuse to think about the warmth and security of his arms. Charlie wouldn't waste a second dwelling on the way she'd made him feel as if he could conquer the world.
They would do their best to pretend nothing had changed between them, that he was still just Donohue-the-short-order-cook and she was Caroline-the-snob-from-Princeton and that their lives had never come together, not even for one magical night in June.
Fortunately for them, Fate had other plans.
The First Trimester
The hottest spring on record slid into the hottest summer.
Life in Princeton and Rocky Hill slowed to a standstill. "Damn heat
wave," said the regulars at O'Rourke's Bar and Grill as they ordered up another pitcher of draft. "Can't even think, it's so hot."
Which was fine with Charlie Donohue. Last thing he wanted to do was think, because whenever he did, he invariably found himself thinking about Caroline Bradley. He'd see a woman with blonde hair on line in the supermarket and remember the way Caroline's hair felt against his face. Or he'd catch a scent like perfumed sunshine and that unbelievable night in her shop would come back
to him in all its Technicolor glory.
"Food's not up to your usual high standards, Charlie," said his boss after a few weeks of this. Something on your mind?"
Charlie shook his head. "Nothing I can't handle."
O'Rourke was about to launch into another one of his patented "...what you need is a good woman..." lectures when the phone rang. It was Murphy, sounding manic, terrified and ecstatic all at once. "This is it," said Murphy, as Charlie took the phone from his boss who was racing for the door. "They're taking Sam to the labor room now."
"Your old man's going to break every speed limit between here and the hospital," said Charlie. "Better pray the cops aren't out in force tonight."
"Watch the place for him, would you? Sam says this won't take long, but I..." His voice trailed off. Charlie waited for him to finish the sentence but apparently Murphy was beyond coherent speech.
"Tell your old man not to worry, Murph. I've got everything under control."
At a few minutes past midnight on Independence Day, Samantha Dean O'Rourke gave birth to a strapping baby boy. The gang at the bar went nuts. Charlie's culinary shortcomings were forgotten and he was allowed to wallow in saccharine daydreams while everyone else went berserk over the news.
And all this for a baby. There wasn't a regular at that bar who Charlie'd figure would give two hoots for babies or children, but they were a surprising bunch. Most of them were grandfathers many times over; the rest of them were putting their kids through college or shelling out money for a daughter's wedding. Not one of them had reached Charlie's advanced age of thirty-five without at least one wife and child firmly in tow.
For a man who saw life in black and white, this full-color explosion of joy over the baby's birth was a mystery. Wouldn't you think they would have hinted at this suppressed paternal instinct at least once in the last two years?
Little James Andrew O'Rourke's arrival into the world was greeted with the same enthusiasm that the bar crowd reserved for the winning touchdown with one minute left on the clock. Charlie was happy for Murphy and Sam, but he wasn't envious. Truth was, Charlie hadn't given a hell of a lot of thought to children. He'd been too busy first with the navy, then bumming around, then settling down there in Rocky Hill. There'd been women, sure, but never one woman who made him think of white picket fences and bundles of joy. He wasn't looking for one, either, because as far as Charlie was concerned, you couldn't miss what you'd never had. Besides, he liked his life the way it was.
Why rock the boat?
#
To everyone's surprise, Caroline became a fixture in the maternity ward at the Princeton Medical Center. She was one of the first to see the new baby and had begged Sam to let her hold him for a few moments. She popped up at Sam's bedside morning, afternoon, and night and never seemed to get enough of the sight and smell of that tiny little person bundled in blue.
"I don't know what on earth is the matter with me," Caroline said, dabbing at her eyes with a pastel blue tissue. "I've never been the sentimental type."
"Babies bring out the best in everyone," said Sam as she put her son to her breast.
"You know I've never been one to get all misty over infants," Caroline continued, still sniffling with emotion. "Why, Patty was the only child I ever understood." Sam's daughter Patty was a bona fide genius whose infectious sense of humor had delighted Caroline from her very first word.
"Maybe you're growing up," Sam said with a wink. "It happens to all of us sooner or later."
Of course they both knew that Caroline had done her growing up a long time ago. She'd never had any choice in the matter.
"It could be the ticking of your biological clock," Sam offered up.
"I doubt that," said Caroline, laughing. "I pressed the snooze alarm awhile back and haven't heard anything from it since." She blew her nose then checked her makeup in a hand mirror. "I've been working too hard, that's all. Too many trips into Manhattan for new dresses. All that commuting takes its toll."
"I've been meaning to tell you that you look like hell." Caroline opened her mouth to protest but Sam wouldn't give her the chance. "Of course, that means you still look ten times better than the average woman, but you do look a little green around the gills, kiddo. Anything wrong?"
"Nothing twelve hours sleep won't cure."
"Go home," said Sam, moving her infant son to her other breast. "Sleep for both of us. I'm afraid my days of sleeping in are over for a
while."
Caroline kissed both her friend and her godson. "Thanks for the advice. I'm going to take you up on it."
A rush of air conditioning hit her as she exited the elevator and she shivered. The last time she'd been this cold was that night in the storage room with Charlie Donohue but they had found a way to stay warm. Oh yes. The memories sizzled through her as she crossed the lobby, and she struggled to push them back into her subconscious where they belonged. After all, they'd only seen each other once since that night, an awkward meeting the night of Sam's baby shower when they'd said little more than hello.
What a fool she'd made of herself, all tongue-tied and adolescent, unable to meet his eyes without remembering the feel of his body against hers in vivid and erotic detail. She pushed open the door and exited to the street. A wall of heat pushed in at her, taking her breath away. A wave of dizziness rippled through her and she sank to the steps, clinging to the railing.
"At least you're in the right place."
Swallowing hard, she looked up to see Charlie Donohue. "What--what're you doing here?"
He waved a big bouquet of flowers. "Same thing you are. Come to see the heir apparent."
The ground seemed to lift at a 45 degree angle.
"Put your head between your knees."
"This isn't a plane crash," she said between attacks of nausea.
"Do it." He put his hand on the back of her neck and pushed her head down. "Now take a few deep breaths."
"Do I have a choice?" she muttered, then did as he instructed. The world came back into focus. Her stomach resumed its normal position.
"Better?"
She nodded. "Much." She met his eyes. "Thank you."
He bent forward and studied her face. "You look lousy."
He, however, looked splendid. She rose to her feet. "Thank you again."
"So what's wrong? Summer cold?"
"Overwork."
"You should slow done. Get some more sleep."
Conversation ground to a halt. What, after all, was there to say? It was patently obvious he had managed to consign the memory of their night together to some dim corner of his mind. Irrationally she wished it had been harder for him to forget her. She'd believed herself too sophisticated, too self-possessed, to turn to jelly in front of a man she barely knew--yet knew intimately.
"Visiting hours are almost over. If you want to see Sam and the baby, you'd better go."
"I'll walk you to your car."
"No." Her vehemence surprised them both. "I mean, thanks for the offer, but I'm fine." She moved away from him, backing toward the parking lot. "Good to see you, Charles."
"Take care of yourself, Caroline."
He went his way and she went hers and, once again, it was as if that magical night had never happened.
Caroline sighed as she climbed behind the steering wheel of her car. "Who knows?" she said as she turned the ignition key. "Maybe it never did."
#
Caroline continued to feel under the weather. Rhonda and Denise, her sales assistants, looked at each other, wide-eyed and confused, each time their boss burst into tears at the drop of a hemline or lost her temper over a wrong number. The weeks passed slowly and for the most part Caroline felt as if she were moving through molasses. Her thoughts were fuzzy, her body exhausted. No matter how much sleep she managed to get, she woke up each morning craving still more.